Page 7 of Operation Wolf: Eli
CHAPTER 3
Eli
IT WAS NEARLY MIDNIGHTby the time I opened the front door of my apartment, lugging in my suitcase behind me. The stench of liquor instantly hit my nostrils along with the smell of weed and old sweat, and I grimaced, kicking the door shut behind me.
“Ian!” I yelled for my roommate, anger welling up inside me. “Ian, where the fuck are you?”
“Hey, man.” Ian stumbled out of his bedroom, his sandy hair sticking up every which way and three days’ growth of stubble on his face. “How was the party?”
“It wasn’t a party. It was a wedding,” I growled, storming over to Ian and catching my friend by the jaw. My anger grew as I looked into his bloodshot eyes. “Stoned and wasted. You’re a real damn winner, you know that?”
Tears welled up in Ian’s eyes, and he pushed my hand away. “Don’t start on me,” he choked, staggering away. “It’s not my fault I lost the rest of the money. That asshole dealer is a cheater.”
I groaned. “You went gambling again?” Part of me knew I shouldn’t have been surprised. “What the fuck, Ian?”
“I know, I know. I’m sorry.” Ian slumped down onto the couch and put his head in his hands. “I wasn’t going to, I swear. But Sean needed a ride, and—”
“I told you to stop hanging out with those assholes,” I growled. “How the fuck are you ever supposed to get clean if you keep letting them drag you back down into the shithole?” I stormed over to Ian and shook him by the shoulders. “Don’t you want to be better than this?”
“I’m sorry,” Ian cried again, tears running down his face.
Once, those tears would have elicited pity from me. Now, I only felt disgust. I’d seen them too many times. Ian always got emotional when he got drunk, especially after losing all his money. It was an endless cycle I was beginning to lose hope of ever breaking.
“You’re not sorry. You’re pathetic,” I barked, shoving Ian away from me. “I’m guessing this means you don’t have any rent money?” I glanced to the calendar hanging on the kitchen wall; even from across the room, I could see it with my enhanced eyesight. It was the first of July, which meant I had only until the end of the week to pay the rent.
“No.”
“Great.” I let out a gusty sigh.
I stood there for a long moment, studying my friend, trying to find any vestiges of the happy-go-lucky boy I’d run around the streets with. But that boy was long gone now, drowned in alcohol, drugs, and debt.
“I’m giving you three days to come up with the rent money,” I finally said.
Ian looked up at me through bleary eyes. “What?”
“You heard me,” I hissed. “Or your ass is out on the street.”
“What?” Ian jumped to his feet, some of the unsteadiness leaving his eyes as real panic set in. “You can’t do that. I don’t have any way to come up with that money. I’ll be homeless! You—”
In an instant, I had Ian up against the wall with his dirty white T-shirt balled up in my fist. Ignoring Ian’s foul stench, I leaned in close until our noses were nearly touching. “Don’t you dare tell me what I can and can’t do, you bastard. For over a year, I’ve supported and tried to help you, and this shitbag”—I shook Ian by the collar—“right in front of my eyes is all I have to show for it. Get the money, or get the fuck out. Your call.”
I released Ian, who collapsed to the floor, sniveling again.
“Please don’t do this,” he cried, his eyes on the carpet now, obviously unable to look me in the face. “Please.”
I shook my head. “I’m sorry I ever agreed to take on your debt to the Outfit,” I sneered. Then I turned away, leaving Ian sobbing in the living room.
* * *
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I groaned, pulling my pillow tightly over my head and squeezing my eyes shut. I didn’t know where the hell that god-awful sound was coming from, but I wanted to take a bat to it and pulverize it until there was nothing left. I’d been having such a good dream. A dream where Olivia and I were sitting beneath a tree in the grass, my head in her lap, as she gently ran her fingers through my hair. I twined my fingers with her free hand and was just leaning up to kiss her soft, luscious lips—
Beep. Beep. Beep.
“Fuck!” I sat up, glaring at the clock on my nightstand. Then I blinked as I saw that it read three p.m.Holy shit. I slept the entire afternoon away?I must have been more tired and jet-lagged than I’d thought.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
